Off to Neverland
by Taiga Scarlett
Summary: The moonlight makes the snow glow as I make my way to a darling little house, where I will meet three darling children. Disclaimer; I own nothing, not even the words that spill over the page


"Who are you and what are you doing to my brother?" a stern voice asks from the shadows behind me. I snatch my hand back from the boy below me, as if burned, and spin around to face the voice.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" I raise my eyebrow as a girl steps free of the shadows, though some still cling to her face. I catch my breath as the moonlight catches and cradles her soft blond hair, creating a silvery halo around her head.

"Come, now, don't be silly. I asked you first," she laces her fingers together behind her back and leans forward, rocking on the balls of her feet. A cool November breeze spills into the tiny room through the open window.

"Alright then, my name is Peter and I play the pan flute. I'm here to see your brothers,"

"My brothers? What do you want with my brothers?"

"Don't worry, my dear Wendy. I'm not here to hurt them; I'm here to make them better,"

I watch in fascination as she wraps her arms around herself, rubbing some warmth into her arms. She shudders and I can see the goose-bumps forming on her neck and shoulder, what I can see of them anyway.

"You- you know my name? How? And how are you going to make them better? Do you have medicine? You don't look like a doctor, though. You look no older than I am,"

I smile mischievously.

"You sure ask a lot of questions, Wendy. That is a very pretty name; does anyone ever tell you that? And of course I'm going to make your brothers better; I wouldn't be here if I didn't have a way to stop the pain they are in,"

"They're in pain?" her eyes are wide and she rushes over to her youngest brother. He was tossing and turning in his sleep, his breathing laboured and his brow drenched with sweat.

"Of course they are," I step in next to her and pat little Michael on the head. "John is in pain too, come look,"

I guide her to her oldest brother, who has curled into a ball and scrunched up his face as if he were smelling something foul while being punch in the gut.

"B-but the doctor said it was just a little cold and that it will pass in no time. They just have to stay warm and-and I have to make sure that they don't sweat through the sheets,"

"Wendy, darling, I can tell from your eyes that you do not believe what you are saying,"

She sniffles and her eyes water. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, torturing it red. The lovely girl presses her small palms to her beautiful blue eyes and whimpers softly.

"Now, now Wendy, don't cry. I promise I will take good care of your brothers,"

"But-" crystal tears streak down her cheeks, turning to ice before they hit the ground for that is how cold it is in this little room. "I'm supposed to watch the boys, my father told me to," she manages to sniffle out.

"You love your brothers very much, don't you?" I pat her soft locks.

"More than anything else in the world," she declares and she looks me straight in the eye.

I can see all of it in her clear blue eyes, her honesty and love is purer than the snow piling up on the roofs of London. Michael coughs violently and she hurries to him, mopping up his brow with a damp cloth and whispering softly to him. I watch, perplexed as her words ease the coughing and her hand patting her brothers' hair.

"Wendy?"

She turns to me. "Yes, Peter?"

I hesitate only for a second before deciding that I need to do this, right now. They won't last any longer.

"Wendy, would you like to know how I am going to make your brothers better? It's a secret though, so you mustn't tell anyone. Do you promise? Do you pinkie promise?"

Her eyes are wide, filled with hope as she reaches her fist out to me with her little finger extended. "Yes, I promise. I won't tell anyone,"

I wrap my little finger around hers' and we shake on it.

"I'm going to make them better with music!" I exclaim.

"What?"

"You heard me, Wendy, darling,"

"But that is absolutely ridiculous! You can't make people better with music!"

"I can and I will, just watch me," I wriggle my brows and withdraw my pan flute from its pouch. I bring it to my mouth and press my lips into an 'o'. I blow softly and a low note resounds off the walls. John uncurls himself and Michael stops thrashing, as if he were straining to listen to the next note I were to play.

I inhale deeply through my nose and I start to play, moving my lips over the various sized reeds and weaving together notes into a hauntingly happy tune. I watch Wendy from the corner of my eye as she watches the colour return to her brother's cheeks. I watch as they throw back the blankets and leap at the blond girl, who is laughing and crying at the same time. I watch as they hug each other tightly and begin to dance about the room joyously to my tune.

But I also watch as the boys' hearts stop. I watch as the girl falls over, her beautiful sun's ray locks cascading over the floor.

All the while, their souls dance. And I dance with them.

We dance out of the window and across snow laden roofs; we swirl with the wind instead of against it. We tread on the air around Big Ben, up and up we go. The city of London soon becomes a small star on the ground, the moonlight making the snow glow.

"Peter, where are we going?" Wendy asks with a grin on her face as she sits down on a cloud.

"I am taking you to the best place in the world. The place that you visit in your dreams,"

Wendy gapes and John scratches his head while Michael throws his teddy in the air before catching him again.

"Is there such a place?" John inquires.

"Yes, of course. It is called Neverland,"

"Neverland?" Michael questions as he hugs his teddy to his chest.

"Why would you call it Neverland?" Wendy asks as she runs her fingers through a fluffy looking cloud.

"Because Neverland sounds better than NeverGetSickland, now doesn't it?"

We all laugh at the silliness of the name.

"So where exactly is Neverland?"

I am cleaning my flute with my hat when that question pops up.

"Where? She asks, hmmm, what do you think little star? Should we tell them our little secret?"

"Little star? Peter, what are you talking about? And who are you talking to?"

"Wendy, darling, do you see those two stars over there? There by the moon," I don't look up as I clean my flute.

"Do you mean the little one above the big one?" she points.

"Well done, Wendy! You are ever so smart. Now, the little one is called Twinkle Bell and she is our guide to Neverland. Neverland is the big star to the right. Come now, we still have far to go before we are safe and sound,"

And so we fly through the moonlight to my home…

O.o.O.o.O

 _ **Illness claims 137 lives**_

 _This new illness has claimed 137 lives They ask that the people remain England will survive this  
and our beloved doctors do not indoors and only leave when just like we have survived  
know how to cure it. absolutely necessary. the war and we will_

 _The authorities ask that the Volunteers have already continue for many years  
citizens do not panic, for panic leads gathered at City Hall, where to come.  
to Anarchy and we are civilised provision will be rallied together __**Long live the King**_ _.  
human beings. and brought to the families. _


End file.
